


Eater of Pussy and Death

by charleybradburies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, BDSM, Blood, Bondage, Cross-Generation Relationship, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Dom/sub, F/F, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson’s never considered herself a people pleaser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eater of Pussy and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses and Gratitude to: lrthunder for a wonderful, stimulating prompt, and amorette for being my lovely (as well as last-minute) beta.

Pansy Parkinson’s never considered herself a people pleaser.

Oh, she’s been _called_ one more times than she could count - it, and its more derogatory equivalents, have been remarks she’s scoffed at and laughed off.

But now...she can’t deny the descriptor. Not here, not now, _not_ while she’s actually physically kneeling on the Malfoys’ floor, painted with the blood of transgressors tortured upon it, and her primary concern is not her stained skirt or even her knees, but why it is that Madames Lestrange and Malfoy have summoned her. She’s keeping her back straight and her gaze tilted to the floor, not even trying to eavesdrop on the conversation happening at the edge of the room to her left. She can, very vaguely, make their faces out in a reflection within one of the puddles of blood, but she doesn’t dare let herself focus on it.

She reveres Draco’s mother, yes, but perhaps because she is Draco’s mother Pansy doesn’t feel quite the same affinity for her as she does her sister. But Bellatrix…every time she speaks, with that gravelly voice that sends shivers up everyone else’s spine, Pansy feels herself getting wetter. Wanting more, wanting Bellatrix in whatever way, shape, or form the woman wishes. Wanting to taste her, wanting to be _made_ to taste her, wanting to come undone at her hand. And of course, at this point in her life, Pansy’s long since learned she won’t get everything she wants, but she’d be damned if she didn’t put her best wand-waving forward.

Bellatrix’s incensed sighs fill the massive room; her sister runs a hand through her own blonde and silver hair, and _her_ sighs are weighted with sadness, perhaps even grief. Bellatrix quietly, and more gently than usual, demands that Narcissa go join her husband and the rest of the Death Eaters meeting in the dining room, and Narcissa complies obediently. The clicking of her heels echoes through the room, most likely the entire home, and Bellatrix watches her leave before abruptly shifting her focus to Pansy.

She marches across the room, her skirt swinging, expression unpleasant and heels clicking, and Pansy further straightens her back without another thought; the more-than-vaguely threatening manner with which Bellatrix advances toward her strikes her with a forceful, dumbing arousal.

“Draco…it has been a _mistake_ for us to trust him. He does not have within him what is needed to be the Death Eater that he _should_ be. The Death Eater that we _need._ However…”

Bellatrix tilts Pansy’s head upwards with a long, sharp fingernail underneath her chin. The witch’s grin is devilish, expectant; Pansy starts to push herself up onto her feet, but Bellatrix stops her.

“You seem _eager_ enough to make up for his failures.”

Pansy nods quickly, and Bellatrix slips her thumb into the side of the her mouth, looking down at her with consideration as she curls her lips around it and sucks it further in.

“How eager is another matter,” Bellatrix continues, her voice growing lower, sultrier. Not in a position to speak, Pansy nods again.

“You must be willing to do _all_ that your Mistress demands of you, Miss Parkinson. Can you do that for me?”

Bellatrix pulls her thumb from Pansy’s mouth, and although Pansy’s not entirely sure what’s just happened, she knows she’s expected to reply verbally.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The older woman smiles, and as she gathers up her skirt Pansy feels her cunt clenching and her mouth watering. Bellatrix hoists the front of her dress up, displaying the true nature of her stockings, which are hooked to a corset via suspenders, but with no panties in between, only a patch of black hair above her pussy. She steps even closer to Pansy before reaching forward with one hand, cupping it around the girl’s neck, and pushing her face into her cunt.

Her immediate gasp makes it clear she _hadn’t_ known quite how eager Pansy had been to wrap her lips around her clit, but she only grips the girl’s hair tighter. Her grasp begins to hurt some, yanking at Pansy’s skull as Pansy dips her tongue inside the woman’s wet, delicious slit, but it feels _good._ So _desperately_ good, and she digs for it, pressing her mouth as tightly as she can into Bellatrix’s cunt and lapping at all that her tongue and lips can reach. She hides for a few moments that she’s losing her breath, but once she pulls away enough to gasp for air, Bellatrix shoves her back in, holding Pansy far too tightly for her to move, though her body reflexively does at some point. Pansy realizes it too late, when she feels the smack upon her cheek that sets her off balance for a moment before Bellatrix pulls her back in again. She can’t resist a moan, and Bellatrix growls in pleasure.

“Can’t stay put, can you, pet?”

Pansy isn’t sure how to respond, but Bellatrix guides her, yanking her away and looking down at her, with Pansy’s long black locks tightly fisted in her grasp. The pressure, again, is pulling at her skull, and if she hadn’t already liked having her hair pulled perhaps it would feel solely painful, but she has the luck of enjoying that...amongst other things.

Bossy things. Being bossed around things.

“Here,” Bellatrix declares a moment later, letting go of her with one hand and pulling out her wand from the back of her garters. She flicks her wand downwards, fastening her grip on Pansy’s hair even harder before Pansy realizes that the spell is properly cutting down the front of her dress. And not just her dress. Her lacy underthings escape the process unscathed, but the same cannot be said for her body - a straight line descends from between her breasts to her pelvis where the spell stops, and though the pain is dull, it bleeds from a couple of places some moments later.

Another flick of Bellatrix’s wand shoves Pansy’s dress over her shoulders and down to the floor, and Bellatrix pulls Pansy up to her feet and kicks the dress away before shoving her back down onto her knees. The floor skins her knees and is colder than Pansy’d expected, and she shivers. Bellatrix ignores the reaction, instead conjuring up a dildo. Unlike any strap-on Pansy’s used before, Bellatrix attaches the device against Pansy’s watering mouth with straps that stretch around her head to keep it in place, tightly enough that Pansy’s tongue is touching the dildo’s base. Bellatrix then conjures an absurd amount of rope, leaning right over Pansy’s head to tie her wrists together behind her back, and pointedly teases her with her dripping pussy, only a matter of centimeters away for what feels like easily five minutes - Pansy can’t be sure it’s really that long, but no _matter_ how long it is it’s _far_ too long for her liking - then squats down to her eye level, fiercely gripping her by the throat.

“You’re a nasty little Death Eater slut, aren’t you? _So_ eager and willing…”

Pansy nods.

“Well, now, pet, I’m going to give you a chance to prove yourself. Make me come, and _well,_ and we’ll talk about what you’re worth.”

Bellatrix’s voice is a mix of sultriness and hostility, and though the declaration frightens her, Pansy’s irrefutably drawn to the challenge.

Which is a good thing, because Bellatrix doesn’t give her a choice, instead stepping forward aggressively, knocking Pansy backwards and forcing her to change from kneeling to being seated. She props herself up awkwardly by her hands and stretches her legs out upon the ice cold, blood-stained floor. Bellatrix stops when her own thighs are nearly ensconcing Pansy’s cheeks, and pushes Pansy back further so that she can easily scoot herself onto the strap-on. She moans slightly, and Pansy prays that’s indeed permission to move. The only motion she can manage is a rigid back-and-forth, and both her mouth and her cunt grow wetter as she presses on; despite the narrow field of motion, it seems to be doing the trick for Madame Lestrange.

The first couple of real moans that escape the older woman catch Pansy off guard, being soft, desperate, needy, so unlike anything she would expect from Bellatrix. Her hands continue holding Pansy’s head, as though she thinks she might stop if let go, gripping onto her hair and, at first, practically pumping her in and out; after some time, though, her grasp begins to get weaker, and at one point her knees even buckle, and Pansy slips free to move even more forcefully, all the while yearning for something _more._ She does the best she can to move in such a way that gripping her knees tightly together means her clit gets the tiniest bit of attention, but she makes the mistake of moaning in her desperation, and somehow Bellatrix pulls herself from her own pleasures to berate her.

“Now, what? You don’t _like_ that?” she growls, knowingly thrusting her hand down and underneath Pansy’s panties. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re a loyal little pet, you’re bloody soaking!”

She slaps Pansy across the face, almost hard enough to displace the dildo strapped over her mouth.

“You’d rather come than make _me_ come, wouldn’t you, you selfish little slut?” she continues, but Pansy’s mind still locates arousal somewhere in her voice.

“I’ll _show_ you how you come here,” she challenges, smacking Pansy again, this time carrying through with the movement and tossing her onto her side; she gags when the dildo collides with the floor and pushes back into her mouth, but the device is removed soon after, and she indulges herself a series of horridly urgent deep breaths, even though her face is now pressed to the floor itself. She’s leaning into blood, she knows - the smell of it, while it does permeate the room, is much stronger here, and she feels the slightly sticky residue left on her cheek when Bellatrix jerks her body back upwards. She could swear that Bellatrix is ripping out a disturbing portion of her hair, but her primary response is only to bite her lip; the woman’s fingers brusquely tear her panties off and dive inside of her, pumping roughly and harshly as she taunts Pansy with whispers and even more yanking of her hair.

Bellatrix presses her into the floor without warning. Pansy whimpers reflexively, only to have to gasp a few seconds later when she receives even less warning about the strap-on being abruptly shoved into her cunt.

As Bellatrix drives the dildo deeper and harder into her - she can feel it in her gut, her exposed, bruised body is rubbing against the blood on the floor, the rope around her arms seems to only grow tighter - more helpless sounds make their ways out of Pansy’s mouth.

Bellatrix seems far better at prolonging the inevitable than Pansy’s ever been, and Pansy delights in whatever length of time it is that she spends blissfully receiving the older woman’s thrusts, spanks, and bruises. The whip makes its way back into its owner’s sharp hand at some point, and its subsequent snaps strike against Pansy’s sides when her Mistress makes use of it. Her skin stings, and she feels _elated._

“You want to come? You want me to let you come first?” Bellatrix snarls, and Pansy whimpers.

“Show me, pet. _Show_ me how much you want to come. _Tell_ me.”

Pansy’s next whimpers come as shouts, and Bellatrix’s thrusts get fewer and farther between, until Pansy’s voice has creeped to a high enough pitch to be a shriek.

“Now, pet, remind me: what do you want?”

“Iwannacum,” Pansy slurs.

“You what?”

“I want - I want to come, Madame Lestrange…”

“Madame?”

“Miss…may I please come, Mistress, _please_?”

Bellatrix offers a deep, momentary chuckle in reply, and starts pulling herself and the toy away. Pansy shoves her head into the floor, biting her lip so hard she leaves the metallic taste of blood in her mouth to keep from actually shrieking.

 _She can’t just leave me like this,_ even _she has enough -_

A much heavier toy is tapped against her bum before her thought finishes, distracting her; one of Bellatrix’s hands winds around Pansy’s wrists where they’re bound at the small of her back, and a couple of fingers of the other hand push inside her for a couple of seconds, the only extra preparation she gets for the massive dildo that inches deep into her cunt a moment later. Bellatrix leaves it there, deep inside of her, as she takes her hand off of it and spanks Pansy again. _Hard_. Indubitably marking Pansy with bruises _hard_...but _not_ hard enough for her to orgasm from the spanks alone.

Bellatrix takes her other hand off Pansy’s back to offer the same treatment to her neglected ass cheek, and then painfully grips them both as she pulls the dildo almost all the way out of her - it’s so large that Pansy feels the emptiness it leaves only having had it inside her a few minutes - and then drives it back inside her, hard and rough and _rapid_ , and refuses to stop.

Pansy screams, _really_ screams. She comes once, harder than she remembers ever having done before, and though her new Mistress comments on her finish she doesn’t so much as temper her movements. She just fucks and fucks and fucks and Pansy gets to the point at which she can’t keep a coherent train of thought, and Bellatrix just _keeps fucking her_ until she’s so entirely undone that she actually stops moving. It’s only then that Bellatrix stops, and Pansy can swear she feels herself being cleaned up but she’s not sure if that’s too much of a stretch to actually be true.

However, she does hear Bellatrix’s verdict.

“Miss Parkinson, I think we just might make a proper Death Eater out of you yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/23865.html)! ♥


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